


In the Forests of Kaedwen

by artistsfuneral



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Animal Behaviour, Animal Instincts, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Just All Of Them, M/M, Multi, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pack Cuddles, Sleepy Cuddles, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Wolf Pack, but with, jaskier accidentally got the alpha role, thats like the whole point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistsfuneral/pseuds/artistsfuneral
Summary: On a trail unseen by the human eye, a mighty stag walks on quiet hooves through the forest. A flock of crows calls out from the sky and the stag's head shoots up in worry. The wolf's hackle raises under the watchful eyes and it huffs out a breath, before it too continues it's way through the forest.[...]“You seem happy, dear heart,” Jaskier says as he is lead inside the keep by Geralt. The witcher hums. “I could smell them,” he says and notices how Jaskier's whole body seems to  lighten up, “they won't take much longer now.”---A shapeshifter, wolfpack, coming home for the winter story, featuring Jaskier and Aiden.
Relationships: Aiden/Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert/Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 235





	1. » Forest Trail «

» Forest Trail «

Deep in the mountains of Kaedwen, where no road can be found and the forest is still thick and wild, autumn arrives early and colors the trees in the shades of the sun. On a trail unseen by the human eye, a mighty stag walks on quiet hooves through the forest. It is a beautiful creature with dark brown fur that shimmers red in the light. Its antlers grown wide and tall in elegant curves like a piece of art. Intelligent, dark eyes take in every movement, ears flickering from left to right as it walks in wide steps. In this part of the forest the stag is safe, no harm will ever come to it, as it walks the hidden paths. And yet it is in its nature to watch, to observe the forest around it.

Its right ear twitches at the warning cry of a bird. The stag stops and stares into the undergrowth; unmoving it blends in with its surroundings. Between bushes, ferns and mushrooms appear two wolves a few meters in front of the stag. The first one is big and white as snow with hints of gray and sand-colored markings, the other one is smaller, its fur grown in various shades of gray.

The stags ears shoot forward and its posture stiffens.

Each wolf carries two partridges in its bloodied maw. In a quick pace the two predators cross the stag's trail, the smaller wolf vanishes into the forest again, but the white one stops and turns its head towards the stag. Their eyes meet and they stare at each other, the stag's nose trembling as it takes in the canine's scent.

The wolf's hackle raises under the watchful eyes and it huffs out a breath, before it too continues its way through the forest. The stag breathes in deeply and steps forward, continues to follow the trail that emerges in front of it. In this forest the stag is safe.

It spends hours in the wilderness, taking in everything that crosses its path. The sight of the sunlight that shines through the treetops, the sound of birds and squirrels, rabbits and other deer. The scent of rotting leaves and growing pants. The stag's hooves are soft against the muddy forest ground and leave small prints behind. Its path takes it up the mountains along a stream that winds its way between the rocks. The thicket lightens the further up the stag walks. Patches of grass appear more and more often and the stag leans down to graze for a moment.

A flock of crows calls out from the sky and the stag's head shoots up in worry. The sun is about to go down; it has spend more time in the forest than it had planed to. It picks up pace, hooves clicking against gravel and cobblestone. Making its way between the ruins of what once was a mighty stronghold full of life, it reaches the entrance of Kaer Morhen.

On the threshold of the keep stands a tall man, who has been awaiting the stag's return patiently. The man's white hair shimmers in the light of the sinking sun as he walks towards the mighty stag on silent feet. A soft smile reaches his scarred face while he unwraps the large blanket from around his shoulders and lies it over the stag's wide back. He steps back and watches the stag bow his head, before the familiar feeling of magic tingles in the air. In front of the man's eyes, the stag loses its form and gets smaller. Bright blue eyes, like cornflowers that grow on the edge of the road, smile up at the man and a wide grin spreads across blushing cheeks. The human gratefully wraps the blanket around his naked shoulders to keep away the cold autumn air.

He hums softly and throws himself in the outstretched arms of his lover. The witcher holds him close, presses a kiss against his temple and softly asks, “Are you feeling better now, mój jeleń?” Jaskier sighs happily, before he answers. “Much better, dear heart. I really needed to spend a day shifted, the forest is beautiful this time of the year. Thank you for watching out for me.”

A pleased grumble leaves the witcher's throat. “Always.”

“You seem happy, dear heart,” Jaskier says as he is lead inside the keep by Geralt. The witcher hums, remembers the afternoon he has spend in the forest hunting with Vesemir, remembers the feral giddiness he had experienced as a wolf when he finally caught the scent of his pack again. “I could smell them,” he says and notices how Jaskier's whole body seems to lighten up, “they won't take much longer now.”

“Do you think Aiden will come too?” Jaskier asks and sits down in front of the fireplace in the main hall, the blanket slips from his shoulders and pools into his lap. Not minding his current state of undress, so close to a source of warmth, Jaskier doesn't pull the blanket up again. A possessive part deep inside of Geralt preens at the open sign of trust.

“I'm pretty sure of it,” says Vesemir from where he is sitting in his armchair. His voice is still rough from shifting, his golden eyes with a predatory glimmer fixate on the younger man. He sits there tall, back straight with a perfect posture, one leg over the other and a heavy tome that smells like fresh leather in his lap. In either shape, human or wolf, Vesemir is intimidating. But in a good way, Jaskier muses to himself and smiles. “I hope so. We didn't ran into him all year. Even Geralt started to miss him, didn't you love?” Geralt stares at him as if he had just bitten into a lemon. It takes a moment, before his head leans to the side and he sarcastically answers, “Terribly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This will probably have three chapters? I am not sure yet, but it's supposed to stay small.  
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://artistsfuneral.tumblr.com/), it's mostly just witcher stuff and some fanart atm ;)


	2. » Mountain Path «

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: wolves fighting for dominance

» Mountain Path «

Deep in the mountains of Kaedwen, where no human is brave enough to go and the autumn forest is wild and dangerous, a group of three ventures on hidden paths and invisible trails. Each one leads a heavy loaded horse of strong breeding and loyal hearts. In the front walks an unruly seal brown mare that throws her head up whenever a bird just dares to sing too loud. She is lead at a quick pace by a man with a deep scowl on his face and hunched up shoulders, impatient to reach his destination. The forest calls out to him, his head twitches and a growl emerges his throat.

The second man rolls his eyes, carefully calms his chestnut mare and ignores the growl, whereas the third ones responds with a snarl and the sound of his sharp teeth snapping in the air. A warning to behave, a call for patience. Neither of those things happen, instead the first man turns around with an answering snarl and soon the two men are yipping and growling at each other, whilst the last one stands in the middle of it all and sighs heavily.

The black stallion at the end of the line nervously flicks his ears back and forth, sensing the tension in the air. “Just go, will you? Give me the damn reins and meet me upstream, can't have you scare off our own horses ,” Aiden huffs at them.

Both men stare at the cat witcher for a moment, before they hastily hand over their horses' reins and start to strip out of their armor and clothing. Aiden patiently waits until they have packed their stuff away, arms outstretched to receive their swords.

“Aren't you forgetting something,” he asks expectantly when Lambert is about to turn away. Both men give him a sheepish grin and press a soft kiss to each of his cheeks, letting the cat muzzle them quickly. “Better. Now go and get your paws muddy.”

Lambert lets out an excited noise and in the blink of an eye, two wolves have vanished through the undergrowth. The smaller one yipps and huffs and puffs giddily, zig-zags through the forest to avoid trees and thorny bushes, leaps over rocks and tree stumps and answers to the call of the mountain with a deep howl that echoes in the wild. It's brown-reddish fur would have blended in with the colors of the forest, hadn't it been so carelessly enjoying itself. And so the bigger, bulkier black wolf could easily follow its pack mate.

The wolves chase through the forest, mouth open, ears pressed to their heads, tail standing up as the shapes and colors around them wash away into an ever-moving kaleidoscope that floods their senses. Claws digging into the soft dirt, leaving behind messy prints and stretched marks that will be washed away by the next rainfall, they run up the mountain until the older wolf finally manages to snap its teeth between the smaller one's legs, making it stumble and fall. Immediately it turns around, not risking to give the black wolf the chance to fasten its teeth in the brown wolf's neck. The black wolf is hovering over it now, so it starts kicking at it with its hind legs, claws digging in the sensitive skin of its underbelly. The black wolf darts away, growls and bares its teeth while the brown wolf jumps up and turns so that they are staring at each other. Snarling and growling they stand there, every fiber of their body tense, every twitching resorts in a reaction. Hackles and tails raised up, they are ready to fight for dominance.

They start circling each other and the smaller wolf starts creeping forward with each step, until their snouts are side by side. They stop right then and there, glaring at each other through the corners of their eyes. No one dares to move. The wolves each fall into a deep growling that starts in their chests and scratches the backs of their throats. The black one uses its advance in height, starts turning its head slowly, hovering over the smaller wolf, which reacts in raising its flews, baring sharp teeth in a last warning.

Suddenly they clash together, teeth snapping at fur and skin underneath, biting and clawing at necks and throats. The smaller one fights viciously, bites the bigger one's ears, makes it yowl out loud, paws at its already scarred face, scratches the spots at its shoulders, where no fur can grow anymore. Still it has no chance to win this fight. The black wolf is way bigger than the brown one, it is older, more experienced, has spend decades fighting against its brothers for dominance. The younger wolf is no match for it and quickly pressed into the muddy forest ground, huge canines gnawing at its gullet until its body stops moving as it gives up its hope of escaping.

Pleased with itself, the black wolf lets go and buries its snout in the soft reddish-brown fur of the wolf's chest instead, breathes in and proceeds to sniff at the smaller wolf's body, looking for some sign of actual harm. The younger wolf wriggles under the examination until the black one finally stops with a huff. Moments later Lambert lies under the black wolf with a deep scowl on his face. “Fuck you,” he pouts, “One day I will win against you!” In response, the black wolf sneezes at Lambert.

When they return to Aiden, upstream at the riverbed where the horses can rest, the cat witcher is sitting on a rock, face turned towards the sun. “Are you done?” he asks the obvious and gets a frustrated noise from Lambert in return. Black eyes blink open and he outstretches his arms, knowing all to well that the younger witcher despises losing. Lambert falls into the embrace with a huff and lets the cat lick his face clean with only mild protest, while Eskel walks over to Scorpion to get dressed. “I nearly had him,” the witcher grumbles into Aiden's shoulder. Behind them, Eskel snorts quietly, which earns him a pointed look from the cat. “On a different note,” Aiden changes the topic smoothly, “I saw some deer tracks on the way up here. Or well, one track.” Both witchers peer up at that and lock eyes. “So the whole pack will be there,” Eskel grins widely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me over at my [Tumblr](https://artistsfuneral.tumblr.com/)


	3. » Wolf Track «

» Wolf Track «

Jaskier hastens down the flight of stairs that lead to the library, as soon as he catches the first glimpse of the three men and their horses outside. Wrapped in a woolen blanket to keep the cold at bay, Jaskier settles on the threshold, as the three make their way through the gates of the keep. His other two wolves are already waiting in the courtyard.

Vesemir stands proud and tall, unmoving even as the first snow starts to fall from the sky and melts in its gray fur. Behind it Geralt is pacing in slow circles. Over the years Jaskier had learned how important this very moment is. Coming home for the winter holds an important tradition for his wolves, a ritual rooted deeply in their bones. Their pack is the most significant force to keep them going through the years. Jaskier loves to watch them reunite.

At the other end of the courtyard, Aiden takes the reins of the other two horses again, while Eskel and Lambert rid themselves of their clothes. He and Jaskier lock eyes and oh, how badly Jaskier wants to walk over to the cat witcher and embrace him. Jaskier had missed the man so badly.

But he settles for a warm smile and a soft blinking of his eyes. When he opens them again, four imposing wolves are standing in the courtyard. Geralt's pacing stops immediately and its nose raises into the air, scenting it curiously. Both Eskel and Lambert lower their heads and tug their tails in, in a display of submission, as they slowly make their way towards Vesemir. Still unmoving, the oldest wolf watches them approach until they are close enough to carefully lick the underside of its maw. The gray wolf lets out a huff and the ice between them is broken, Geralt sprinting forward as the wolves happily reunite.

Jaskier uses the moment to run to Aiden and jump into the cat's outstretched arms with a huge grin on his face and an excited laugh escaping his lips. Aiden lifts him from the ground and twirls him around, making Jaskier giggle like a schoolboy, before he buries his head in the bard's neck and idly rubs his cheek against the soft, warm skin.

Their moment of solitude doesn't last long and soon Jaskier is lying on the cold cobblestone floor with his lap full of happy wolves. He can't stop laughing as he tries his hardest to pay equal attention to all four of his wolves, giving them pets and kisses, head-ruffles and hugs.

Once they've had had enough, Jaskier and Aiden watch as they dart away between ruins and tall grass, into the wilderness.

Jaskier sees his wolves again in the evening, after the pack had spend a few hours running through the kaedweni forest around Kaer Morhen. It has been snowing all day and the late autumn landscape and all of its colors are covered in a white blanket of cold.

So it's no surprise to Jaskier, that he finds his wolves in a cuddle pile in front of the big hearth, when he ventures into the great hall. They are all still shifted and probably will stay like this for the rest of the night. Jaskier doesn't mind it though.

He carefully makes his way over to them and the brown tabby cat, that has made itself comfortable on top of the smaller, brown wolf. Geralt's white head shots up, but Jaskier shushes the wolf with a kind smile, before he undresses himself to shift too.

Deep in the mountains of Kaedwen, where no road can be found and the forest is still thick and wild, winter arrives early and colors the land in the shades of the sky. In a keep unseen by the human eye, a mighty stag quietly lies down on a soft carpet in front of a fireplace. A big, white wolf puts its head on the stag's wide back, a black one shifts in its sleep, so its huddled close for warmth. A small cat lets out a long yawn and starts purring on top of a reddish-brown wolf, that is fast asleep. An old, gray wolf's throat escapes a pleased rumble as the stag gently places its head next to the wolf's.

In this forest the stag is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow... I actually finished something I started. That's new.  
> Anyways! I'm so sorry for taking so long with this last chapter, but it's finally here. So thank you so much for reading!  
> Come yell at me on my [tumblr](https://artistsfuneral.tumblr.com/)


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